


Lost In The Lost Weekend

by DemonDean10



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Still, be warned, except not really, the idea of it but not actually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-03-05 11:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18827461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonDean10/pseuds/DemonDean10
Summary: Based off the time when Phil Spector tied up a drunk John during the lost weekend to make him ‘sleep it off.’ You can google it, very creepy.It is a dramatization in which Paul gets involved.





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

> I messed with the timeline of the lost weekend but it’s ok.
> 
> This was really just a writing exercise sort of but I do have plans for it.

John was scared. He didn’t remember much of the night, only that he had been at a session with Spector really drunk. He was always drunk these days. But he wasn’t at the studio, he was...laying down? “Phil? Phil!” He shouted.

 

A weight got on top of him. Had the room not been so dark he would have seen that it was George Brand trying to hold his swinging limbs at bay.

 

But to John it seemed much more sinister, a strange person climbing on top of him only made him struggle more and keep on shouting. He was shouting for Phil or May to help him, but they didn’t seem to be around. “Get off me!” He shouted, wiggling like a worm. 

 

Then he saw what had to be Spector appear from behind his attacker and sighed in relief, “Phil! Get him off me!”

 

But the man just shook his head and smirked an amused smile.

 

John gasped as his arms were taken and raised to the headboard. He started cursing at them both to hide his fear. Were they planning a three-way sex situation? John shook his head, “Get off me!” He shouted at them.

 

Phil tutted at him, “You just need to sleep this off, Johnny.”

 

John hated to be called Johnny by the likes of Spector. He screamed obscenities at him and at the man on top of him, who was getting lower and lower. John kicked his legs but Spector grabbed those too and held them down, he tied those as well. 

 

John saw May come in and gasped, “May! May, get them off!”

 

The young woman gaped at the scene, “What did you guys do!?”

 

The man got off him and walked towards her, “Don’t worry, he’ll be okay. Just let him sleep it off.”

 

John shook his head at her but she sighed and nodded. “May! Get back here!” He yelled as she left with the strange man following her. 

 

Phil Spector groaned at him and started to take off his ugly scarf, “Alright, shut it, Lennon.”

 

John tried to move away but Spector grabbed his face and stuck the scarf inside his mouth and tied it around his head, gagging him. John stared up at him with wide frightened eyes.

 

Phil laughed at him, “Look at you, Johnny! High and mighty no more, eh?”

 

John’s chest was going up and down at a wild pace. He flinched as Spector patted his thigh.

 

“You’ll be alright soon, just gotta sleep it off.” He said.

 

But John couldn’t sleep like this. He’d always had a strong fear of being held down, of not being able to move, to run. He shook his head and tried to bed with his eyes that Phil let him go. 

 

But Spector just patted his cheek with a rough hand and walked away.

 

John let out muffled sounds of protest, pulling like a madman at his restraints. 

 

Phil smiled at him as he opened the door, “I’ll be back.” He muttered.

 

John blanched, what the hell did that mean?? He kept on trying to get free after the door was closed and locked, but the ropes didn’t give out. He fell into the bed and closed his eyes, hoping that it was all a nightmare. But the coarse rope was digging into his wrists and the scarf was covering his nose and making it hard to breath well. 

 

John was hyperventilating, shaking and heart beating wildly. His breathing was erratic and he couldn’t find the power to calm down. 

 

He was lost.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Paul McCartney was outside of John’s LA residence, hoping to hang out with his friend. The sun was bright and the birds were singing. It had been a month since he’d seen John and he had shaved since then, no more moustache.

 

He rang the bell and waited for a few moments. There was no answer. Odd, there were like five people and many guests living in the house. Surely one of them had to be up? He rang the bell again and knocked. Again, no answer. Sighing, the singer tried the door and rolled his eyes when he found it open. He only hoped nothing bad had happened…

 

He entered the house and called out, “Hello? John? It’s me, Paul!”

 

Quiet. He looked into the kitchen and living room, they were messy but empty. Sighing, he dared to go upstairs. Paul only hoped that he wouldn’t find John and May in...compromising positions. His relationship with John had been over for over five years now, but there was still a pang in his chest every time he saw John be happy with someone else. It was selfish, especially considering Paul himself had a wife and kids, but that’s how it was.

 

Paul stood at the top of the stairs and looked around. “Hello!” He called again, “John? It’s Paul….McCartney.” Maybe he was being ignored.

 

But then he heard a quiet little ‘thump.’ He looked around, “John?” Was the man playing a game?

 

Another thump, slightly louder.

 

Paul walked to a door in his right, last he remember this was Brand’s bedroom. He’d been passed out in there last time. He knocked on the door, “Hello?”

 

There was no spoken answer, only a bed squeak. Paul rolled his eyes, it was people having sex. Great. He went to turn away but a sound stopped. It sounded like a cat? Very quiet and certainly not caused by pleasure. Taking a deep breath, Paul turned the lock and opened the door… And gasped.

 

John was there. The man’s bloody wrists were tied to the bedposts, his ankles in similar position. He was gagged with a fuzzy scarf that covered the majority of his face but Paul could still see tear tracks in his cheeks. 

 

The older man’s eyes widened at him and he tugged at the ropes.

 

Paul ran to his side, “Johnny!” He went to untie the gag, it took him a long time because the knot was messy. Finally, it was off and he threw it far into the corner. “What happened?” He asked as he went to untie his legs.

 

John was taking in deep breaths and trying to get rid of the fuzzy hairs stuck in his mouth. “S-Spector,” he gasped out. “He, he tied me up and”- he coughed- “He said he would be back and I don’t...I didn’t understand I thought he’d rape me or…” He brought his aching legs close to his chest, “I don’t know.”

 

Paul fumed, “I’ll kill him.” He hissed. 

 

John whimpered as Paul pulled on the rope around his wrists. 

 

“I’m sorry, Johnny. It’s really tight.” Paul said. He was carefully to untie it without touching John’s wounds much but John still hissed and let out tiny yelps of pain.

 

The moment he was free, John jumped off the bed and curled against the floor.

 

Paul had seen the same thing years ago after a prank that had gone wrong. He knelt next to his ex-partner without touching him, “Johnny, it’s okay now. You’re free.”

 

John didn’t speak, he only offered a shaking hand.

 

Paul grasper it and held it close to his chest, “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

 

John started to take in deep breaths and his body stopped shaking as harshly. He swallowed a few times, “I-I’m alright.”

 

“Why did Spector tie you up?” Asked Paul, helping John sit up.

 

The older man hugged himself, “I don’t remember much...I was at the studio? I think, yeah.” He shook his head and frowned, “Then I was here in this bed, there was someone on top me and Spector arrived and, and he-“

 

“It’s alright, John.” Paul forced his voice to be calm, “Did he...do anything?”

 

John shook his head, “No. He was just, just creepy.” He sniffed, “He scared me.” He admitted in a whisper.

 

Paul drew him into a hug, “You’re alright now, baby. Where’s May?”

 

John scoffed weakly, “She came in, saw me, left with them.” He felt betrayed and angry and abandoned. Nothing new in John Lennon’s life.

 

Paul bit his lip, “Wanna come with me? We’ll go eat something, take your mind off this.”

 

John smiled at him, “Thank you, Macca.”

 

John hadn’t called him Macca in years. Paul grinned as he stood, “Come on then.” He offered a hand.

 

John took it.


	2. Park

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday to our lord and saviour paul

They were getting ice cream of all things. John’s wrists and ankles were bandaged carefully and Paul had also bought some soothing cream for his face where there were small bruises forming around his mouth. John wasn’t wearing glasses because he had no idea where they went but Paul had a protective hand on his back to lead him around the park.

 

Their long hair was wiping around with the wind and they both struggled to keep it off their treat. Paul had gone for a simple vanilla while John had gotten a ‘double chocolate feast.’ Typical Johnny.

 

They hadn’t talked about it yet and Paul was waiting for his friend to start the conversation.

 

John pulled down the sleeves of his coat so as to better cover the bandages, “How are the girls?”

 

Paul smiled softly, “They’re good, thanks. How’s Julian?”

 

John shrugged, his mood sour again. He hadn’t see Julian in a couple months now. Not since Disneyland.

 

Paul bumped his shoulder, “So what do you wanna do?”

 

The older man shrugged again, “I just don’t want t’go back there.”

 

“Of course.” Paul said. He spotted a lake coming up. “Wanna go boating? We used to do it when we were kids, remember?”

 

John smiled, “Yeah, that was nice.”

 

“Let’s go then! Finish your ice cream.” Paul said and they walked towards where the attendant was giving out the oars.

 

Paul spoke up, “How much for thirty minutes?”

 

The teenager took a drag of his cigarette, “Three bucks.”

 

John raised a hand and dug into his pocket, taking out a five dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

 

The teen looked at them, “Ain’t you famous?”

 

The two of them smiled, “Don’t think so.” Said Paul and took the oars.

 

They got on the small white boat and Paul led them away. John closed his eyes and let the weak breeze soothe his troubled mind. But soon images of the night before started flashing through his mind, of Spector’s cruel face taunting him as he gagged John, May walking away, the mysterious figure on top of him holding him down…

 

Paul noticed, “Johnny?”

 

John jumped and his eyes opened. He held his knees to his chest, “Sorry.”

 

Paul shrugged, “It’s alright.” He looked down, “Listen, mate...I was thinking-“

 

“Oh, that’s never good.” John jokes but it sounded sad and flat.

 

“I was thinking.” Paul continued, “Maybe you’d like to come down to New Orleans with me.” Seeing John tense up Paul hurried to add, “Just to get away, nothing to do with the album.”

 

The older man buried his nose in his arms. “I don’t want your pity, Paul.” His voice has taken a nasty edge.

 

The other man held back a sigh, “It’s not pity, John. I’m just being nice.”

 

John sniffed behind his arms. He knew that. But he’d forgotten how to respond to Paul’s kindness. “Mother won’t allow it.”

 

Paul did sigh this time, “John, this isn’t about her. You’re allowed to make your own decisions. If you want to come with me, come.”

 

John thought for a moment. He didn’t look at his friend, “I don’t want t’be a burden.”

 

Paul reached out to take his hand, “You could never be a burden to me, baby.”

 

John blushed but smiled softly. “Okay. I’ll go with ya.” He didn’t even think about May, he didn’t want to.

 

Paul laughed freely and they carried on with the boat ride.

 

* * *

 

John and Paul were standing outside the door of John’s LA residence. They could hear shouting imitating from inside, sounding like May and Spector. Paul squeezed his mate’s hand and they walked in together. 

 

They followed the screaming to the hallway upstairs where the people there stopped shouting and went still when they saw them.

 

Spector was the first to speak, “Johnny! Feeling better, eh?”

 

John glared.

 

May hurried to his side, “I was so worried!”

 

John scoffed at her, “Weren’t worried when you let them tie me to a fuckin’ bed.”

 

She took a step back, “I just, they said it would calm you down.”

 

Paul was the one to laugh, “Tie a man to a bed, yeah that will calm him down.”

 

John turned to Spector, “I’m leaving.” Then to May, “I’m going alone.”

 

Her eyes were wide, “When will you be back?”

 

He shrugged cruelly, “Don’t know.” He felt abandoned by May and so he would abandon her.

 

Paul wasn’t feeling sympathetic either. “We’re just here to get his things.” He said.

 

Spector stared at the two of them, “Had to run to your little knight in shining armour, didn’t you, Lennon?” He smirked at Paul, “You should have seen his eyes last night, so scared of what I might do. I could have done something, but I didn’t.” He leaned close, “Bet you know all about that, don’t ya? Didn’t the whore use to spread his legs for you back the-“

 

A hash backhand cut him off. Paul grabbed him by the lapels and slammed him against a wall, “You shut your mouth.”

 

John stared worriedly at Paul, he knew that if he got too angry he tended to fly into a nervous frenzy which often resulted in passing out. “I’m gonna get ma things.” He said.

 

Paul paid him no mind, he just leaned close to Spector and spat out, “You’re not touching him again, you hear me?”

 

Spector laughed, “I don’t think I’ve seen ya angry before, I think I like it.”

 

Paul moved away and threw him to the floor. “You will stay away from John.”

 

“And I’ll keep his tapes with me, then.”

 

Paul shrugged, “Do that, we- he can record without you.”

 

But Spector just chuckled. May was looking on in horror. The producer smiled, “It’s not just music on those tapes. Wasn’t kidding when I called your boyfriend a whore, he spent more time moaning into the microphone than singing.”

 

Paul didn’t have the time or energy to unpack that. He just glared down at Spector, “You will hear from my lawyers.” He saw John coming back with two large suitcases and two cats on his shoulders. Paul spat at Spector, “You will stay away.”

 

Spector’s laughter and May’s confused calls followed them out. The girl ran out the door, calling for John but she was ignored. May sighed and groaned, now Yoko Ono was truly going to be upset. But a part of her was relieved, she knew that John would be okay with Paul McCartney. Better than here, at least.

 

Paul smiled at the passenger seat as John cuddled with his cats. One was black and one was white. “You haven’t changed, still a crazy cat lady.”

 

John chuckled softly, “They calm me.”

 

Paul nodded understandingly, “I know, Johnny.”

 

And the two drove away from that house, trying to forget what had just happened.

 

* * *

 

They got to Paul’s hotel and John hesitated before getting out of the car.

 

Paul stopped, “John?”

 

“Won’t Linda mind?” John asked, caressing his cats.

 

Paul wasn’t sure. But Linda was a kind woman and once she knew about what happened she would understand. Also she was happy with John because he’d given her top quality weed the last time they had seen each other. “It’s gonna be okay.”

 

John sighed, “When are we leaving?”

 

“Two days. Linda wants to take the girls shopping or something.”

 

That’s right, Paul’s daughters were there. John really didn’t belong there. Still, nothing to do now.

 

They got out of the car and Paul helped John with his bags. It was a nice hotel, but not the best they had stayed in.

 

The lift ride was quiet, both of them wondering what was going to happen. Perhaps Paul should have called ahead and explained things to Lin, it would be a big surprise for John Lennon to show up into their suit just because. But no time now. Paul opened the door to find Linda and Heather folding some clothes so that it would all fit inside their suitcases. 

 

The two girls stared at them. Linda spoke up, “Oh, hello.”

 

John waved awkwardly.

 

Heather turned red and looked away.

 

Paul pointed to a door on the left, “That room’s empty.” Then to Linda he said, “Can we talk?”

 

Linda looked very confused but she nodded and they went into a bedroom. 

 

As Paul closed the door, Linda spoke up, “What’s going on? Why is John here?”

 

Paul sat down on the bed and sighed, “He, uh, he’s coming to New Orleans with us.”

 

“Oh. That’s great, Paul, but that doesn’t answer my question.” Linda wasn’t trying to come off as rude, but having John Lennon show up at her hotel suite was unexpected.

 

“Something happened.” Paul said, “With Spector and May and...John doesn’t feel safe anymore there so I invited him to come.”

 

Linda sat down next to him, “Is he okay?”

 

“Yeah. I, I’ll help him.” Paul said, more to himself than to Linda. He smiled at her, “He won’t be any trouble.”

 

His wife scoffed, “I don’t believe that for a second, but I think its Heather who’s gonna be the source of trouble. She’s got a but of a crush on him, you know.” Of course it was nothing serious, she was eleven after all, but little girls were easily charmed and John had become her favourite Beatle much to Linda’s amusement.

 

Paul laughed, “I know.” He took her hand, “Thank you.”

 

Linda smiled kindly at him, “You’re welcome. Now get out there before the girls eat him.”

 

Paul winked at her and went out to the sitting room, where shouts of excitement could be heard from his daughters. He found John anxiously seeing as his cats were petted and carried around by the strange girls, but he let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Paul. Heather wasn’t near the cats, she was just staring dreamily at John. She really wanted to hug him.

 

Paul walked up to John and put a hand on his back, “You okay?”

 

John nodded at him, “I will be. Thanks for this, Macca.”

 

Checking to see none of the girls were looking, Paul leaned in for a quick kiss to John’s rough cheek. “Of course, baby.” Spector's words were still ringing in his mind, but Paul pushed them away. He knew nothing about it and he would not ask until John spoke about it.

 

John looked like he wanted to say more but Salt the black cat chose that moment to jump on the chandelier and cause the girls to freak out. 

 

It took two hours to get the cat to come down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are lovely
> 
>  
> 
> C8


	3. Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> -mentions/references to sexual abuse/pedophilia 
> 
> nothing graphic, but it is mentioned.

**1966**

 

It was supposed to be funny. Paul, George, and a reluctant Ringo felt the need to get some playful revenge on John for the whole Jesus thing. They weren’t angry at him, but since it was his fault that the whole tour had been full of fear and stress, they figured a small prank wouldn’t hurt. 

 

Paul had no idea where George had gotten the handcuffs from and he didn’t want to know. John was currently taking one of his long naps (It was incredible to think that the three didn’t realize that these naps came after anxiety attacks, but they didn’t. Not even Paul. Not yet.) and they knew that he didn’t wake easily. They sneaked into his and Ringo’s room, handcuffs ready. 

 

One look at the relaxed and innocent look on John’s face had Paul second guessing the prank, but he figured John would appreciate the humour in it. Carefully, he took John’s fine wrists and raised them to the headboard. He held them there as George fastened the cuffs around them, locking them to the bed. 

 

Ringo stared with a nervous frown, but said nothing. He told himself over and over that John would wake up and laugh. They would come get him and it would be okay. Why wouldn’t it be? 

 

George and Paul giggled as the three of them walked out and closed the door, the younger lad pocketing the key. 

 

“Down to the hotel pub then?” George told them. 

 

“When are we coming back?” Ringo asked with a concerned look at the door. 

 

Paul shrugged, the prank seeming more harmless the more they walked away from it. “Couple hours. He’ll be fine, Rings. He’s just sleeping.”

 

“We’ll probably be back before he does wake.” George assured him and they left the room, Ringo cheering up at the thought of the booze downstairs. 

 

Needless to say, they were very wrong. 

 

When John woke up he didn’t feel anything amiss and he laid there with his eyes closed and body loose for a couple moments. It wasn’t until he tried to turn that he noticed his arms were unable to move. He shifted and felt a strain on them. 

 

John froze when he heard a clink of metal. Metal around his wrists. John started to full at them frantically, not caring if he broke skin, he needed to  _ get free. _

 

It reminded him of other times when he’d been unable to move. He could practically  _ feel  _ the weight of an older man on top of him, hushing him and threatening him, his hands tied with any scrap of cloth the man could find. 

 

John thrashed and pulled, feeling his skin break. Finally, he screamed.

 

“ _ Help _ ! Help me! Please! Let me go!”

 

John was sweating and his eyes were tearing up. This couldn’t be happening, not here, not  _ again _ . 

 

“Paul!  _ Paul _ ! Macca!” His partner, his lover had to help him. 

 

“George! Ringo!” John shut his eyes in despair, his lashes wet. “ _ Please. _ ” He whispered, “ _ Please help me _ .”

 

The door burst open and Brian ran in, hair disheveled and shirt halfway unbuttoned. “John!?” He exclaimed and immediately ran to his side.

 

John sobbed, “Eppy,  _ help _ .” 

 

Brian felt sick at the sight of the blood coating John’s wrists. His skin had always been delicate, it was no wonder it broke so easily. “I’m here, John. It’s okay.” He ran a hand down John’s hair and looked at the cuffs. He didn’t have a key but luckily he knew how to pick the lock. How and why he learned to do that wasn’t important.

 

He ran into the closet and found a tie pin. He hurried back to John, who was trying to calm his breathing. 

 

Brian made a quick work of the lock and threw the handcuffs far into other side of the room. John jumped from the bed and curled up on the floor, whimpering and crying. 

 

Brian knelt next to him, “I need to treat your wrists, John.”

 

John let out a choked protest, hiding his hands under him.

 

“Let me make you some tea, alright?” Brian continued, “Come into the living room.”

 

John didn’t move at first but then gave him a stalled nod. He stood up on his own, tears still falling and hands shaking. He followed Brian into the sitting room of the suite and fell into the longest couch, curling up into a ball. 

 

Brian came back with a first aid kit and a blanket. He put the soft blanket over John, careful not to touch him. “There, here you go. Can you show me your wrists?”

  
John sniffed and held them out. 

 

Brian took the right one in hand to stop the trembling. “It’s okay, John. I won’t hurt you.”

 

Carefully, he cleaned the wounds, applied promenade, and bandaged them. He held both hands tightly, “Is that better?”

 

John offered a barely perceivable nod. Then look down and let out a small sob. “Why would they do this, Eppy?” He whispered. 

 

Brian knew exactly who ‘they’ were. It had to have been the lads, no one else would have access. “I don’t know, Johnny.”

 

John looked up at him with terrified eyes, “Do, do they hate me? For the, for what I said?” He sobbed, “I didn’t mean to fuck up, Eppy. I didn’t, I swear.” He buried his face in his arms, “I didn’t thi- I don’t them to hate me, I don’t want t’be alone-”

 

Brian moved to the couch and took him in his arms, “They don’t hate you, John. They could never! You will never be alone.” He promised. “They were just...just stupid.”

 

And in that moment, ‘They’ appeared. Ringo, George, and Paul stumbled through the door giggling like madmen. 

 

“Oooh, Johnny!” George sing-songed, holding up a key. “We’re back!”

 

They turned to look at the sitting room and froze. 

 

It was quite a sight they saw. John curled up impossibly tight under a huge blanket with tears falling from his eyes and Brian’s arms protectively around him. 

 

Paul’s eyes narrowed, “Wh-what happened?”

 

Brian was red with anger. “‘What happened?’ I’ll tell you what happened, McCartney: You handcuffed John to his bed!”

 

George flinched. “It was just a, a prank, to make up for all the...stuff during the tour.” He said in a meek voice, seeming to realize just what he was saying too late. 

 

All three jumped as John fell from the couch and kneeled in front of them. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry!” He sobbed, head bowed. He kept repeating his apologies like a mantra, shoulders heaving with the strength of his shudders. 

 

Ringo was horrified frozen. He stared at John's bandaged wrists. He couldn’t think of something to say, of something to  _ do _ to stop John from  _ groveling _ at their feet. 

 

George felt like crying himself. He’d caused this, he’d hurt his brother. 

 

And Paul? Paul felt like he was going to be sick. He fell to the floor next to John and tried to reach for him. His heart broke when his lover flinched away. “Johnny…” 

 

John had his eyes shut tight, praying that Paul would say that he was forgiven. He winced as a calloused but gentle hand touched his cheek. “Macca?”

 

But then the hand turned rough, “Look at you, Johnny! High and mighty no more, eh?”

 

John gasped. That, that wasn’t Paul. The hand gripped his chin and forced his face up. 

 

Phil Spector stared back at him, a mocking grin on his face. 

 

John shook his head weakly, “No, no, no- How are you here?” He tried to move away but he was frozen in place. 

 

“Johnny, Johnny...did you really think you could run away from me?” The grin turned into a snarl, “You dirty whore.”

 

John’s breaths were starting to speed up, “N-no, I’m with Paul in New Orleans-”

 

Spector laughed, “Do you think he’d want  _ you _ ? A broken, pathetic whore?”

 

John whimpered at the name. That’s what  _ he _ had called John…

 

And with a snap Spector was gone and  _ he _ was on his place. He looked the same as he had all those years ago. Commed blonde hair, almost yellow green eyes, a manic grin on his face. “Hello again, John.”

 

John stopped breathing, his eyes wide and terrified. He could only shake his head and murmur, “No, no, no…”

 

The man moved closer, his breath stinging John’s eyes. “Have you missed me? I’m sure you’ve been so lonely-”

 

“No!” John could move suddenly and he scrambled backwards, “You’re not real! You  _ can’t _ be.”

 

“Oh, I’m here.” The other man creeped closer and took a hold of John’s ankle, his nails biting into the skin. “Lie still for me, you  _ whore _ . I’m gonna make it all better.”   
  


John beat his fists against him as the man got on top of him, but it was like he was young again. Young and powerless. John closed his eyes, needing to wake up. This was just a nightmare, it had to be, but why was he still under!? John squirmed and shook, shouting out explosives as the man took his wrists and held them in a firm grip. 

 

“John!” Came another voice. 

 

The singer shook his head, “No, no, n- Get off me!”

 

A hand touched his face and he wanted to slap it away. “John!”

 

Everything faded away and  _ he _ disappeared. But John was still laying down, still shaking. With his arms now free, he raised them and tried to strike the figure on top of him. He froze as a shout was heard, the shout of a woman. 

 

His eyes opened and the memories came back. 

 

He was in New Orleans, with Paul. They had landed in the morning after a flight in which John had sat himself down on the back of the plane and tried to write on a napkin. Heather had come and sat down to him for a while, just listening to him try out words for the lyrics. It had been nice. He blinked and squinted, trying to see who had woken him up.

 

“John?” Came Linda’s voice. She was next to him, clutching her chest. 

 

“Linda? I, What are you doing here?” John gasped. He’d struck her, he’d hit Linda. In the midst of a violent nightmare but still.

 

“I heard you screaming, are you okay?” Linda asked with concern. She sat down on the bed and John winced at the proximity.

 

He swiped at his eyes, “Yeah just a- just a dream.”

 

She didn’t say anything, only stared at him with a gentle look. Linda was a kind woman, she would not judge him.

 

John sat up and brought his knees to his chest. “Did Paul tell you why I came?”

 

Linda shock her head, “Just said that you didn’t feel safe with May anymore.”

 

“It wasn’t her, not really.” John sighed. “Phil Spector he...tied me up to a bed and gagged me.”

 

“Jesus christ…” Linda said with a disgusted expression. 

 

John squeezed his knees, “I, the dream it- it was about a prank the other lads pulled on me on a tour.”

 

Linda closed her eyes with a sigh, “They tied you up?”

 

“Handcuffed me to a bed as I slept.” John murmured, avoiding her gaze. 

 

“Merinthophobia.” Linda said. 

 

John frowned, “What?”

 

“The fear of being bound.” Linda chuckled quietly, “It was an answer for a newspaper game.”

 

“Oh.” John nodded vaguely. So there was name for it. He wasn’t the only one. 

 

“The paper said most people are born with it like any other-”

 

“No.” John interrupted without thinking. 

 

Linda looked at him, “No?”

 

John looked back at her. Could he share this with her? He’d never told anyone. Not Brian, not Paul, not even Yoko. It had been his greatest shame for years. 

 

Linda rested a gentle hand on his knee, “If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”

 

John buried his face in his knees, “I don’t know if I can.” He whispered. “I’ve never...nobody knows.”

 

Linda caressed his knee with her thumb, “Would you like to me to bring Paul?”

 

John immediately shook his head, “No, he can’t know.”

 

Linda was very worried now. What could have possibly happened to him?

 

The man sighed again and sniffed, preparing himself. “Growing up with Mimi, she’d take in lodgers to help with the rent.”

 

Linda gave a nod, Paul had mentioned that to her before. 

 

“And uh, one of them was called”- he coughed- “Adam. He was studying some science or another.”

 

Linda had a sinking feeling of where this as going.

 

“He arrived when I was thirteen.” John explained then let out a mocking laugh, “I thought he was so cool. At first. He didn’t- he wasn’t too forwards. At first it was only touches, too long, too strong...Then he started saying things. I don’t think I understood them then, they just sounded odd to me.” John blinked away tears from his eyes. “And one night he came into my room. I was scared but…” He fell silent.

 

Linda blinked away tears of her own. “John? You don’t have to keep going.”

 

“No, I do.” John said with determination. He had to overcome it. “He came into my room and said he was cold, asked if he could share with me. I thought it was very hot but I didn’t want him to not like me any more for being rude so I said yes.” He shuddered.

 

Linda closed her eyes. “Did he…?”

 

“No.” Said John, “Not yet. That’s all he did at first: Came into my room, held me at night. I, I don’t know what he did as I slept, I” He gulped- “I don’t like to think about it.” He took a deep breath and kept going, “It was only after Uncle George died that he...started. He offered to pay more to Mimi and how could she refuse? We didn’t have any other sources of income and he helped her out.” A tear fell, “She like him, Mimi did. Said he was a proper gentleman.”

 

Linda shifted closer to grasp his hand, feeling for him. 

 

He squeezed it. “I, I tried to scream those first nights, I tried to get him off- I promise.” He looked at her with wide eyes, begging her to belief him.

 

“I know, John. I know you did.” Linda was crying too. The last thing John needed was to blame himself. 

 

“But he was stronger and he, he  _ tied _ me up and  _ gagged _ me.” John was shaking, “And he threatened her, he threatened to hurt Mimi if I told anyone.” A sob escaped him, “She’s not very strong, he could have killed her if he wanted.” A shrug, “So I didn’t tell. Not ever.”

 

Linda wiped at her eyes. “When did he leave?”

 

John hesitated for a bit. Then, “A few months before I turned seventeen. Around the time I met Paul.” He’d tried to be so tough all the time then, he was crude and rude and  _ macho _ to hide the fact that he cried himself to sleep almost every night. (Not on  _ those _ nights, he refused to cry for Adam.)

 

Linda’s heart broke for him. “I, would you like a hug?” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

 

John chuckled weakly and opened his arms. They held each other for a long time, John burying his face on her neck and Linda brushing his long hair with her fingers. 

 

John sniffed as they pulled away, “Thank you.”

 

“Of course.” Linda smiled then thought of something to cheer him up, “There’s some cake in the suite kitchen, want a slice?”

 

John knew the cake would go straight to his belly but at the moment, he didn’t give a damn. He smiled at her and licked his lips, “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

The next day Linda was sitting in bed waiting for Paul to come out of the bathroom. 

 

He came out in just a towel, whistling a happy tune. Paul shook his ass as he did a little dance and Linda giggled. 

 

“You’re very cheerful today.”

 

Paul smiled at her, “I’m about to record a brand new album, I’ve got my lovely wife and beautiful daughters with me, John is here…” He nodded in satisfaction, “I’m happy.”

 

Linda smiled with him. Paul had such terrible depressive episodes, she was happy whenever he got like this. She almost didn’t want to tell him about John. 

 

But she had to. 

 

“Paul?” She called, “Could you come sit for a bit?”

 

Paul hopped over to her and kissed her cheek as she got comfortable, “Yeah?”

 

She sighed and looked down at her hands, “It’s John.”

 

Paul’s smile fell, “Oh? Has he done something? Lin, I’m sorry-”

 

“No, no!” Linda was quick to interrupt, “He hasn’t done anything wrong. But he did have a nightmare last night, I went to talk to him after.”

 

Paul frowned, “Oh? Was it, was it about Spector?”

 

Linda shook her head, “He told me about that but no.” She looked up at him with stern eyes, “It was about a prank you played on him where you handcuffed him to his bed.”

 

Paul turned red and bowed his head, “Oh. Yes, we...we were stupid.” John had been too afraid to touch him for  _ months _ after that and the image of his lover groveling on the floor was stuck on all their minds forever.

 

Linda would not mention Adam. That was John’s nightmare to tell. “He was left pretty worn out after it, maybe you could cheer him up? Maybe some music could help?”

 

Paul bit his lip, “I don’t know Lin, I don’t want him to think I’m pressuring him to go into the studio.”

 

“Just try.” Said Linda, brushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead, “I feel like he’d really appreciate it.”

 

Paul nodded, “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

 

They shared a kiss and Paul finished getting ready.

 

* * *

 

It was late when Paul and Linda returned from the studio. Heather and the other girls had stayed with John, the older man nervously promising to look after them. They hadn’t left the suite but when Heather had called to check in she had sounded like they were having fun. 

 

The suite was dark as they entered, but there was the sound of a guitar strumming coming from John’s room. 

 

“I’ll go check on the girls.” Linda said and nodded her head towards John’s room, clearly indicating that Paul had to go talk to him. 

 

Paul took a deep breath and went to John’s door. He knocked, “Johnny? It’s me. We’re back.”

 

“Come in.” Came in John’s voice. He sounded calm at least. 

 

Paul entered the room to see John on the bed with Paul’s guitar held upside down. 

 

“I, eh, borrowed your guitar. I’ve been playing for the girls.” John offered a sheepish smile. 

 

Paul sat down Indian style in front of him, “Good.” It was always good to play music. He nodded at a stray piece of paper in front of John, “Is that new?”

 

John nodded, “It’s coming along I think.”

 

His partner smiled gently, “Could I hear it?”

 

The older man blushed, “I just started it.”

 

Paul put a hand on John’s knee, “I’m sure I’ll love it, baby.”

 

That convinced John and he started to strum. 

 

_ Our life together _

_ Is so precious together _

_ We have grown, we have grown _

_ Although our love is still special _

_ Let's take a chance and fly away _

_ Somewhere alone _

 

_ It's been too long since we took the time _

_ No-one's to blame, I know time flies so quickly _

_ But when I see you darling _

_ It's like we both are falling in love again _

_ It'll be just like starting over _

_ Starting over _

 

The song was soft and gentle and it make Paul’s heart flutter. Did he dare ask if it was about him?

 

John stopped playing, “That’s all I’ve got.” He said. “What do you think?”

 

Paul stared at him. Finally, he said, “I think it’s beautiful.”

 

His partner grinned, “Really?”

 

Paul grabbed the guitar and put it aside. He leaned closer, “Really.” He promised and locked their lips together. 

 

John was unresponsive at first, too shocked to do anything. But soon enough he was kissing back with passion, opening his mouth up for Paul to slip his tongue in. 

 

Paul buried his hands on John’s hair and  _ pulled _ .

 

John moaned brokenly into the kiss and slapped his hands against Paul’s cheeks, holding him close. 

 

Both their lips were swollen and red by the time they moved away from each other. The two of them grinned at each other, giggling at the state of them. 

 

Paul felt so happy that he said, “Come into the studio with me.”

 

John tensed and his hands fell away, “Christ, everything is about bloody records with you-”

 

“No!” Paul interrupted and took one of John’s hands. “Yes, I want us to go to the studio. Yes, I want to write this song with you. But it would be just for us. I promise.” He brought John’s hand up and kissed his palm, “Just for us, baby.”

 

John tilted his head, “You won’t put it on the album?”

 

“Not unless you want me to.” Paul said. 

 

His lover smiled, “Alright then. We’ll write it together.”

 

The younger man laughed and brought John over to kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment if you ikea. jaja liked.


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